Link Up
by fabulous sun
Summary: The aftermath of a concert turns out to be rather explosive, and the detonation happens in the dressing room... Includes Link being on edge, Ghirahim being nasty and Fi being much too honest. And guys in monokinis. GhiraLink, AU.


**Link Up**

_A/N: This is a random idea, involuntarily created by my sister, who… really hates Ghirahim's guts. When she fought him in the second stage, she was like "You'd think that if that asshole lets me dance around him all the time, he'd have the decency to put suitable music on and sing to it!". The idea kind of stuck to me._

_Link Up is the name of a cocktail. Another creativity-fail on this part, though I found the connection between vodka and Nintendo's so very virtuous hero hilarious._

_The smut-warning should go without saying from here on._

/

"Have you lost your mind _completely _now?"

The clearly affronted cry rang through the cheerful hustle and catered for a moment of spooked silence – before the raucous noise continued. The overstuffed dressing room smelled like sweat, cigarettes, a choking mixture of perfumes and leather, all scalded up in the melting pot of body heat and skin.

It usually started out like this.

"Check that out, the left one's got a zoom!" Beads jingled as someone rushed forward, swiftly programming the time line of the large monitor embedded into the wall. He somehow managed to twist his lavender-colored hair while handling the touch-screen, grinning widely. "This is so going onto Youtube!"

"We've been live, you dumbass, so it's already there as we speak. But I guess that's what they say 'bout men with long hair, no room for a brain", a female cut in, and still she leaned onto his shoulder, watching the screen with evident interest. The noisy tumult softened to an excited murmur and occasional grumbling about costumes.

They were children – the kind of grown-up, fully gifted and entirely blank-faced children. And unmerited of his anger, because there was only one person responsible, and he wasn't among those.

Music with the strong bass of a racing heart gushed through the speakers surrounding the screen, which provided the spectators with the recording of a stage enlightened with shrill strobe lights, their brightness surrounded the standing figures so harshly they were barely visible. The recording was still unfiltered, so the screaming of voices awoke the impression of an otherworldly, forbidden ritual. A single, technically-fortified voice cut through the ruction, freezing the hall with its androgynous timbre and a delicate trembling. The camera zoomed closer as drums boomed louder, presaging a drastic event as tension began to build and the screams got louder…

"Missing out on the fun, Link?"

Forget about unmerited targets. Link shot a smoldering glare in Vaati's direction, who grinned challengingly at him.

"Yes. It's somehow kind of familiar."

"Buzzkill!", Midna chided and slapped his butt with a resounding smack, earning laughter, cheers and quite a few catcalls. Link gritted his teeth when his ears began to heat up, cursing his inability to take casual groping for inevitably granted, like the rest of them. There were things you couldn't avoid, especially not as a professional dancer.

More catcalls from the speakers suddenly erupted when the lights on the stage began to shift, cold Xenon-light flooded the space and temporarily blinded everyone looking too closely. But it also sharply outlined a tall body with tight boots made from black patent leather and quite spectacular garters. Silvery-white hair glowed ghostly as the man performed a fierce twirl, exhibiting every inch of his smooth grey skin, covered by only a thin black bolero – moderate remains of former clothing. A collective howling sprang up when he swiftly shrugged the close-fitting item off as if it didn't cling to his sweaty skin and whipped it around. Several hands rose to catch it, even though the man made no move yet to throw it.

Gazing around with an expression that was simply smug, he strode to the center, as if to position himself for the toss. The background-dancers had withdrawn to the darkened corners to get out of the focus, their black costumes reflected small shards of light. Strings of burgundy red pearls were firmly wrapped around arms, torso and hips, not restricting the agility but hissing like the tail of a rattlesnake with their movements. The costumes were daring, showing off skin on men and women alike; they didn't differ for the gender, leaving all of them in black monokinis with a thin strip of velvet draped around the neck.

With a curt nod, the man in the spotlight beckoned them closer, announcing the next phase of the performance. His chuckle, trembling with malicious amusement, carried over the microphone attached to his pointed ear. The coarse sound of a grunge-guitar bellowed.

Next to Link, Fi made a noncommittal noise. It would have been more exhilarant if she hadn't been watching at all. A reaction from her generally said something.

The Xenon-lights dimmed slightly, but before they expanded their glare onto the dancers, the front figure withdrew, messing the choreography and forcing the technician to react quickly by shifting the floodlight.

It relocated the man just in time to illuminate the image of him throwing the provisory rope of the bolero around one of his dancers, yanking him forward into the light so that his blond hair dazzled like fiery gold. The camera instantly zoomed closer to capture their mouths clashing together in a ferocious kiss.

Suggestive cheers erupted, both on the tape and in the dressing room – a deafening cacophony.

As if they had never seen a kiss. Between men. Live and in color. And one that _absolutely should not have happened._

Vaati rewound the scene, humming merrily: "And I'll tell your girlfrieeend…"

Midna snickered as she began to unwrap the beads from her generously curved hip. "As if- Hey!"

Link turned the screen off before the scene could repeat, his lips pressed together in an angry line.

Yes, it really started like that, and he was powerless.

"Stop."

The flatness of his voice and his stern expression worked – but only on those who chose to quit teasing him. Which sadly was not the whole squad, and those who fell silent listened carefully.

Vaati put his hands to his hips and flicked one of his thin braids, obviously comfortable with his risqué clothing. A feeling that Link couldn't share, no matter how often he experienced these circumstances. He wasn't sure he wanted to, either.

"Whaddaya mean, goldilocks?"

"This was a private moment of intimacy, my lovely little lavender leech, and that is what he means."

Link flinched when long, slender arms draped around his shoulders and lazily stroked his exposed skin, making the hair at the back of his neck stand. There was a not even strong, yet heavy maelstrom pulling him back against a warm chest, and it took Link a telling moment to struggle out of the grip.

Seeing Vaati blush slightly and get back to changing for a shower – not to mention shutting his cakehole _outright_! – however, summoned his anger again.

"Would you kindly remove your hands, Ghirahim?", Link hissed lowly and brushed an arm from his shoulder, only to find out that the other one had wrapped tightly around his neck. He had no choice but to turn around to face his 'co-worker'.

Fi chose that moment of all to frown thoughtfully. "It was not private", she added in all sincerity while rolling up her peal strings and hanging them onto a hook before she left the cabin to shower. Fi usually didn't undress before entering the stalls, which wouldn't have been worth mentioning if _everyone_ kept to that basic law of modesty.

Ghirahim waved the remark casually aside, flashing Link a patronizing smile when he peeled the arm from his neck.

"The public eye is much like the sun, seeing everything and caring for nothing", he sang, his brown eyes gliding over Link with a particular glint. Ghirahim hadn't bothered to wash off his makeup yet, leaving his grey skin with opalescent body glitter and violet diamonds painted on his joints. Strings of ebony pearls wrapped loosely around his neck. For some reason, Ghirahim had a strong dislike for bathrobes, so he had thrown a plain black sports coat over his shoulders. And he had the nerve to appear no less daring with it.

Link mustered him a fervid glare.

"_I _care. And you just… ruined every chance for me to ever appear heterosexual again to anybody!"

"He said sex!", Midna jeered, earning another round of immature giggling from the plenum and a wave of frustration from Link.

Ghirahim shot her an elfish wink. "Mommy and Daddy are talking, hon." He reached for Link's chin, frowning slightly when he pulled away before long, manicured fingers could touch it. "What's the matter, my little one? I can assure you that no one wears a monokini as manly as you, 'specially when undress-"

"The next time you need a _private moment_, find somebody else", Link spat, interrupting him before another tantalizing comment could serve to amuse the whole troop. Ghirahim watched him with a somewhat lurking expression, then a slower smile stretched his white lips.

"Could you, by any chance, be angry with me for kissing you?"

Give the man a prize.

"Don't do it again."

Before the earnestness of his words could reverberate in the dressing room, Midna hummed quietly while untying her high-heeled sandal from her ankle. It was a miracle that no one had sprained anything with those torture devices, but that was the thing about Ghirahim. If he wanted it, he could make people outgrow themselves.

A talent that the bastard abused on a regular basis.

"He's right, ya know. Next time, kiss Vaati – goldilocks won't give a flying fuck, isn't that so?" She eyed Link with a grin that could be described as abysmal. "You guys can practice right now, and we'll all feel how cold that leaves you."

She was testing him, and everybody knew it. Link gritted his teeth, feeling the familiar mixture of embarrassment and anger that confrontations like this one always brought. He had been too agitated to consider before, and this was where it got him.

They were supposed to listen to him, actually.

This time, Link jerked visibly when Ghirahim's arms twined around his chest, the smell of sweat and gooseberry enfolded him possessively. "I don't want to", the singer purred with finality. "No offense, flower."

Vaati shrugged with only a hint of disappointment. "None taken."

"Great." Link squirmed out of Ghirahim's grip again, quicker this time because said person had begun to let his hands wander. "Do a counterstatement when you get the chance", he added, a bit brisker than necessary.

Ghirahim uttered a brief chuckle. "The century when you can order me around, my love, has not yet begun – in short, no."

So he wanted to have a go at it.

"It's the least you can do when spurning other people's reputations", Link retorted, reaching for his water bottle at last. Thirst suddenly caught up to him; because of Ghirahim's pointy-headed action, he had been too fixed to think about anything else. He had even forgotten the revealing clothes he hadn't been able to change out of.

"Your reputation?", Ghirahim sneered, "If you ever take a peek outta your closet, let me know! You, my dear, are officially regarded as gay."

"I'm _not_."

"Sounds like we need a streaker", Vaati remarked, incidentally glancing at Midna, who grumbled something like 'I already did my hair'. Link tried to drown that out with a mouthful of water before he could cough.

"Nobody actually believes you're straight, darling." Ghirahim rubbed a bit of glitter between his fingertips and gifted Link with an arrogant smile. "That train's not only already out of the station, it's off the rails."

"Which is your fault, even if it isn't true." Link set down his water, meeting Ghirahim's mocking eyes coolly.

"Woke up on the wrong side of the bed again, huh? Like it's my fault that you never give a shit whenever you do a lifting figure with Fi – hell, you don't even try."

"It's a gesture of respect, which must be unfamiliar to you."

"The irony! If you'll excuse me, I'll go and puke rainbows."

Midna pursed her lips and hurriedly slipped into her bathrobe, muttering: "Cover your hair, lint roller, sparks are flying again…"

For once, Vaati didn't respond to her dig as he tied his hair into a simple knot, ignoring the fact that he hadn't been able to take off his costume yet. "Saw that coming…"

Some people were famous for their interviews after a concert, or their airs and graces about ridiculous details. Ghirahim was famous for fierce backstage arguments with his favorite choreographer.

He disagreed with a lot of people, but for some reason, Link was the core of all heated dispute. Which would have been more amusing if these disputes didn't bear the potential to be very… intense.

Ghirahim shrugged off his coat, his eyes gleaming dangerously like simmering brown oil. Link didn't appear to be intimidated as his blond brows shaped a deep crease at the bridge of his nose, signalizing that the dam of his usual polite respectability was about to burst. Whatever words they had exchanged in the short while of inobservance, those had done nothing to cool the tension.

"You dare to say that to my face?"

The massive heels of Ghirahim's boots rang on the floor like gunshots as the marched over, baring his teeth to Link, flexing his fingers as if preparing to hit him.

So far, they had never ripped each other's throats out, but there was a first time for everything.

Vaati lifted his hands in a somewhat pacifying attempt. "How about staying together for the kids, Bone Daddy? I don't really feel like growing up under sole custody…"

Ghirahim flashed him a warning glare, obviously having lost his humor to his quickly changing mood of anger. "Naughty boys and girls, go play elsewhere, _now_."

Midna threw Link a hopeful look, who roughly jerked the straps of his costume from his shoulders and peeled the black nylon off his upper body, then ripped the patch from his right biceps where it had covered a dark-green tattoo of a wild bird in a swoop. "How uncommonly discreet of you to avoid public mudslinging", he remarked snidely and stifled a curse when the fabric of the monokini caught on the drying sweat on the skin of his back.

"I'll sling very different things at you until you beg for mud…!"

"Right on cue!" Vaati threw his robe on and set to leave the dressing room. "I felt like wearing this balls-jamming thing anyway, I don't even feel my-" He ducked just in time to avoid getting hit by the stainless steel bottle Ghirahim flung after him. The room cleared very fast after that and the door slammed shut.

There was a long second of silence.

"God, but you are a fucking alley cat…!"

Link folded his arms in front of his not ripped, but distinctly taut chest. "Can you blame me?"

Ghirahim let out a hissing chuckle and draped his arms around the other man, running them over still-tense muscles as he pressed up against him. "I just might have corrupted you, lovely Link", he sighed and tugged the strip of velvet around the neck loose. It slowly came undone, gliding across the skin and slipping down onto his folded arms.

"Have you, now?" Link slightly titled his head, his eyes betraying an odd mixture of mischief and sincerity. "I meant it."

Ghirahim smiled lazily as dusty-white hair fanned over his cheek. "Why certainly. If I had known pissing you off a little would make you strip, I would've thrown my fit much sooner." His smile widened as he nuzzled his cheek against Link's stubborn blond hair. "You shall henceforth be officially known as a cunning little minx."

Link jerked his head to the side to escape, then abruptly pressed his lips against Ghirahim's. Though he was about a hand span shorter, he didn't quite lift his head, instead swiftly nipping the lower lip with even white teeth. His arms remained folded, and yet the rest of his body seemed to interact all the more.

"'Tis uncomfortable, Vaati's right", Link whispered, and Ghirahim gave a low grumble of discontent when the words interrupted the kiss.

"Quit nagging already, it suits you."

Link unfolded his arms and grabbed Ghirahim's wrists, not quite pushing them off but only letting them hover over his skin. "I told you I was serious."

Ghirahim half-growled a dramatic sigh and wrenched his hands away, throwing them into the air in mock-despair. "So? I don't see your problem, dearest. Right now, you're tearing me apart for sexual harassment, and in the end, I'll be nice and sorry and you'll be all ill-fated innocence. Chicks will pity you to no end – frankly, you don't even guess how many chicks get off on pitying guys, you'll be made breeder of the year in no time!"

Link regarded him with a hint of the crisp manner he formally wore around Ghirahim – if the title 'breeder' impressed him, he didn't let on. The faintest of smiles crept around his blue eyes, a spark so subtle that you had to be looking for it.

"If you say so."

Without any warning, Ghirahim swept a vase filled with dark red hibiscus-blossoms from a credenza, shattering it uncomfortably close to Link. He flashed a brief, if unapologetic, smile. "Just keeping up the background noise. Do go on."

Link glanced at the shards of glass littering the parquet, the spreading puddle of water, then, entirely straight-faced, "It looks difficult to take off."

There was still a glint of distinct displeasure in Ghirahim's eyes, but the corners of his mouth curled softly as he casually leant against the credenza. "Tell me about it."

Link marched over the mess of spilled hibiscus, this time letting himself be enveloped in a crushing embrace as he took hold of Ghirahim's upper arms. Their mouths met again, with no more unison than they had shown on stage, but with an almost frantic intensity. And this time, Link wasn't nearly as shorttaken. He hissed quietly when Ghirahim bit the tip of his tongue, quite strong enough to make it hurt even if it didn't bleed, and responded by digging his nails into the glitter-coated skin until his neatly cropped nails left angry red crescents.

"Fuck, does that… rub off?", he gasped, and Ghirahim snickered in a low-pitched voice. "I'll help you wash, you sissy."

"Son of a disco ball. I'll take you up on that."

Ghirahim's fawn-brown eyes danced with twisted delight as he ran his hands over Link's smooth back until he reached the bunched nylon of the monokini just above the cleft. "Yes, I… _definitely _corrupted you."

Link pressed a harsh kiss to his throat, letting his tongue flick against the grey skin before scraping his teeth over the prickling spot. "Maybe", he granted almost tenderly. "And maybe I just don't… waste my manners on you." His voice began to take a throaty note and sounded gruff again.

Ghirahim smirked before sighing lustfully as Link brushed a particularly sensitive spot behind his round ear, titling his head to the side to give better access to the one zone of his body that even his exhibitionistic nature usually hid from sight. The gesture of trust was small and so easily overlooked. It didn't matter.

"For all I care, if… - do that again… - it pleases you…"

Link obeyed the silent demand and bent his neck to let his tongue sashay over the plain curve of the shell, tasting sweat, lotion and a short, sweet shudder.

"I'd be pleased if you'd shut up…", he rumbled, his grip on Ghirahim's arms eased to allow them to roam further down. Ghirahim promptly took the opportunity to pull the fabric further down without unhooking the clasp of the strings of pearls, leaving them wrapped around Link's limbs.

"And if I said your wish was my command?"

Link shot him a piercing glare, no doubt still remembering the remark Ghirahim had made. Midna liked to nettle her colleague about his well-bred mechanism to always listen to people (claiming that if he was straight, he'd lack that ability) – though there was a certain advantage to that.

All pliant all of a sudden, Link cupped his hand around the back of his lover's neck and pushed his lean body into the other, pinning him into the credenza. Ghirahim moaned huskily, his eyelids fluttering for a moment. They melted into a kiss again, breaths becoming rushed, pulses beating faster and out of sync…

Link's hand abruptly scooted down, gripping Ghirahim's thighs and using the force of his weight to sweep him off his feet and thrust him up onto the smooth surface of the piece of furniture. Ghirahim growled in protest, his fingers curled around the pearl strings and gave them a sharp tug until they left red imprints on Link's skin. Without batting an eye, Link held fast, trapping him between his torso and the wall.

"You think you control me, but you don't", he snarled, lust and checked rage mixing in his blue irides, clouding them with a darker haze. His palm roughly slid over Ghirahim's nipple, rubbing the sensitive skin with little mercy. The singer pursed his white lips; the tip of his boot-toe slammed against Link's inner thigh, though restricted by the credenza at his heel, he could hardly gather momentum.

"Cocky little shit." Ghirahim grabbed a handful of blond wisps, jerking Link's head back until his throat was bared. There was a small silence, filled with heavy breathing and the soft creaking of the credenza.

Then, Ghirahim gave a low, raucous laughter that implied his jaded self; it lasted a curt while, and it seemed to snap him out of something. His grip eased, and he yanked Link's head back to kiss him passionately. As they writhed, their movements disharmonized as if any kind of unity between them was impossible, but then Link groaned fiercely, his eyes shining with the same blaze that flared in Ghirahim's ragged pants. They touched with strange, sharp gentleness, sweat breaking out again as the true private performance began…

"What _is _this?", Link murmured in an irritated slur as he failed to decode the opening mechanism of Ghirahim's garters; the sticky silk refused to stretch an inch, much less budging when Link tried to pull it down.

"There's… lacing at the side." Ghirahim clicked his tongue. "Thought you'd notice… those things." Though his words were clearly taunting, his trembling fingers betrayed his helpless arousal as he reached for the delicate laces, tugging at them. His sitting stance didn't help any, however, Link proved to be surprisingly nimble-fingered as he worked them open. Ghirahim moaned lightly when the pressure on his crotch eased, smirking whimsically. "'s much as I love… roughhousing with you, let me down… I wanna fuck you."

There was a truly smutty glint that Link didn't bother to hide – and that no one would believe him to be capable of because no one ever saw it.

"Not been listening?" His fingers traced over the pulsing femoral artery beneath the skin of an ashy inner thigh, gathering glitter at the tips and then casually sliding them over Ghirahim's erection, earning a strangled gasp.

The inner conflict that Ghirahim encountered was almost visible on his face as he ran his tongue over his slightly swollen lower lip, trying to decide between his pride that immediately rejected the suggestion, and his senses that were starving for blissful sensations.

The worst thing about a leap of faith was that it was usually demanded out of the blue. But Ghirahim had never been indecisive.

"As if you could make me limp, dar-Link…"

With a provocative smirk, he opened his legs and pulled the necklace over his head, carelessly tossing it to the ground and nailing Link with a challenging look. Ghirahim's brimming confidence was what made him impossible to resist, and against better judgment, Link pressed against him once more, kissing him with almost violent intensity. He hissed when Ghirahim yanked down the tight monokini, not being considerate in the least for strained flesh that pulsed with need and then tingled with pain at the rough treatment. The nylon caught at the thighs again, and Link shook it off with a practiced roll of his hips. Ghirahim watched him with lustful amusement, rubbing his boots together with a soft squeak of patent leather as he wrapped his legs around Link's waist.

"Prepared anything?"

Tiny wrinkles appeared around Link's eyes, so intangible they could be a sign of waggishness as well as petulance. His face was flushed with arousal and he breathed out a drawn-out moan as Ghirahim nibbled the tip of his pointed ear, playfully rolling the small blue earring between his teeth. Though the distraction visibly hindered Link, he withdrew his hand from Ghirahim's cock, rising a tiny grunt of regret, and reached behind his back. Slipping his trembling fingers into the tight lacing of the boots proved to be difficult, especially because Ghirahim seemed to regain his senses and let his hand sneak between their heated bodies, teasing the tip of Link's erection with his thumb.

"Sure you're… up to it?" As if to emphasize his point, Ghirahim wound his fingers around Link's arousal, coyly stroking him until the blond couldn't stifle an impassioned moan; his knees were shaking slightly with the effort to hold him up.

With a jerky movement, Link dragged a flat plastic object from underneath the lacing of one boot, clenching a still-packaged condom between his fore- and middle finger. He panted hard, but his grin was smug nonetheless.

"You're not… as hard to read as… you think", he growled with evident satisfaction, and Ghirahim leant into him, kissing him fiercely again as if succumbing to a temptation. He spread his legs further with fluid grace, his arms entwined Link's neck. "Do it", he whispered huskily, nestling his sweaty body against Link's, feeling the hardness of muscles and the soft, strained tremor of desire.

"It'll hurt you." Even though Link's voice was clouded with lust-induced heaviness, hesitation shone through his tone, and perhaps a hint of instinctive unwillingness.

Ghirahim flashed him a slow, inebriate smile.

"Then hurt me."

For a brief second, none of them moved, and their eyes locked. For all their sulfurous arguments, there was a certain level of communication between them that went deeper. It was only used in moments like these – not because that was the sole chance, but because none of them wanted to feel comfortable with the strange, gentle closeness.

The moment broke, and Link rolled the condom over his cock, flinching slightly when his blood rushed even faster through his veins. Ghirahim ran his fingers over the smooth cheek, a possibly loving gesture; Link pressed back into the palm without halting, closing his eyelids fleetingly.

Then he pushed against his lover, carefully guiding the tip of his arousal to the ring of muscle, drawing in a deep breath…

"Oh God."

Ghirahim moaned, squeezing his eyes shut and gritting his teeth. Link let his pent-up breath out in a hiss of both sensuous relief and irritation.

"You _did_ prepare", he mumbled and brushed his lips against Ghirahim's jaw line, then his mouth.

"Lock… and load." Ghirahim smirked, then shuddered with shameless pleasure as Link roughly rocked forward, burying himself in the heated body without warning. The intensity of the sudden conjunction left both of them breathless, Link leant his damp forehead against Ghirahim's shoulder as he suppressed a gasping groan and forced his muscles to react again.

Ghirahim buried one hand in mussy blond hair, his voice reeling subtly. "Yes… Yes…", he aspirated, his free hand dragged down Link's chest, leaving reddish lines that burned as soon as sweat reached them. Link let out a harsh sigh of both pain and lust, then slammed his hips forward again, drowning everything in a rush of twisting limbs and overwhelmed moans. The credenza creaked and was ignored as hands roamed in an erratic need to touch everything at once, mingling air, smells and setting racing heartbeats into unison.

They kissed hastily, without enough breath to draw it out. Link's hands interlaced behind Ghirahim's neck, holding him fast as his thrusts grew more forceful and jerky. Ghirahim smiled detachedly, his brown eyes glazing as he pressed hungrily into his lover, sweat smearing his body painting and glitter together.

Link buried his face in the crook of Ghirahim's neck as a tremble ran through his system, making him arch his back. He smothered a cry in the frantic gallop of pulse beneath the skin, still wreathing his body as tension began to build, bringing him closer to his climax. Ghirahim seemed to feel it, his slender fingers crept down to his crotch again, digging his nails into Link's hip for support as he parted his legs farther.

This time, they weren't communicating, and it was harmony.

/

Vaati twirled one of his braids, glancing impatiently around and shifting on the large red couch he was currently lounging on.

"You guys think the coast is clear by now?"

The general attention shifted over to Fi, who had wrapped herself in a plain, fluffy bathrobe and seemed to take little interest in the fact that she was banned from a part of the backstage. Without stopping her ministrations to order her blue hair neatly behind her ears, she replied: "There is an eighty-five probability that entering the dressing room now will disturb a private moment of intimacy."

With that stated, she carefully combed her damp hair. Midna groaned and slumped back against the back of her loveseat, dropping her cell phone into her lap.

"Chrissakes! Next Valentine, I'm _so_ setting those guys up for a date, and that's the end of it!"

/

_A/N: I'm pretty sure I had a brain cramp somewhere in the middle. And I regret nothing! … Well, so maybe the dumb joke with the title._

_After seeing the one and only bikini, the Ghirakini, I couldn't get past this (look it up in dA if you don't know it!), and I'm not yet over it now, so I thought it consequential to dedicate this weird piece of literature to that picture; or rather the artist. I'm sorry for that dubious honor, sombersunshine._

_I really love dominant Link – though this one is slightly different from 'The Closest Thing to Crazy'. I love both._

_And I'm wondering what comes next in AU-ville. Cowboy-holidays? Valentine dating? My crack-brain obviously can't cope with Canon. But someday, it will!_

_Reviews are welcomed and rewarded with a signed pantyshot from Ghirahim._


End file.
